


Variations on a Theme of Normalcy

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-25
Updated: 2006-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester did not do shame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on a Theme of Normalcy

**Author's Note:**

> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

Dean Winchester did not do shame. Dean Winchester was very late coming back to the crappy motel they were staying in, a little drunk on cheap beer, his hand was shaking on the doorknob, and Dean Winchester was right this second thinking about himself in the third person like he was crazy, but Dean Winchester did not do shame.

"I'm eighteen," he said, like that meant something important enough to stem the tides of John's anger, as he slammed the door to the hotel room and rubbed his hand over the fresh bruise on his throat. "And if I'm old enough to fight demons, I'm old enough to get laid!"

Jesus, did he say get laid? Out loud? To his father? Dean Winchester was a dead man.

"Be quiet. You'll wake your brother."

Dean stood there a few seconds more, waiting—hoping—for John to speak, before he gave up and turned away because John's pencil was moving over the battered notebook he carried everywhere with them and his father clearly had nothing at all to say. Oh, yeah, Dean Winchester was so screwed.

* * *

"What was it like?" Sammy asked, head popping up from a nest of blankets as soon as their father left to get coffee.

This was all he needed. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"Yeah, right. Like I could sleep through that." Sammy sat up and stared at Dean like he had the answers to all the world's questions in his dick or something. "So what was it like?"

"It was like sex, Sammy." Dean stretched out on the other—undisturbed—crappy motel bed and pulled the pillow over his head. "She was nice. It was normal."

"Normal," Sammy murmured and Dean almost had to laugh. What the hell would any of them know about normal? Even Dad left normal behind a long time ago, and he and Sammy never had a chance.

"So where'd you do it?"

"Jeez, Sammy, why do you care?"

"I don't know."

Dean heard Sammy moving around behind him, the rustling of papers and clicking of pencils that meant Sammy was doing some sort of homework, which was all kinds of fucked up since they mostly didn't go to school and Dad's idea of things they needed to learn was how to keep a demon out of your room and which sorts of metal blades worked best on werewolves. "Why do you always do that?" He gave up on trying to get comfortable, stifled the idea that nobody had been comfortable in this bed while Sammy slept soundly a few feet away, and rolled over to face the kid. "It's six o'clock on a Sunday morning, don't you have anything better to do?"

"It's normal," Sammy said about why he wanted to know, and all of a sudden a lot of things made sense.

* * *

Dad came back with black coffee and breakfast sandwiches wrapped in greasy waxed paper. He muttered "here" when he tossed them down on the scratched bureau and didn't look anywhere near Dean, though he took a second to pat Sammy on the head. Sammy wolfed down his breakfast, sucked his coffee-burnt lip between his teeth, and headed for the shower before Dean could even make a start on his food.

"You want out, Dean?"

"What?" The coffee went down hard and took a chunk of muffin with it. "No!"

"You can go."

Dean squirmed under John's stare. "I don't want to."

"You don't want to? Because you weren't here last night."

"I… I met a girl!"

"You met a girl, your brother and I met a ghost." John leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "We took care of it. Your brother is fine."

"You didn't need me." That went down nearly as hard as the breakfast.

"You weren't there. We can't rely on someone who isn't going to be there."

The coffee splashed over the edge of the cup and became just one more stain on the motel carpet. He never wanted to let anyone down. He never wanted to fail. "I just wanted to be normal, Dad."

"So did your mother."

* * *

Dean Winchester did shame, and tried to let it roll off his body and down the drain along with the soapy water.

"Hurry up, Dean!"

"Leave me alone, Sammy!"

"Your brother's asking on my account," John said, as he cracked the bathroom door and steps inside. "I need to shave. We need to get going."

"Sure. Right." He heard John wiping off the mirror before he even said it was okay, so he didn't know why he bothered to speak at all. "Maybe mom would have wanted me to be normal." John hissed and when Dean looked around the shower curtain he saw blood decorating the sink. "I'm sorry."

"Your mother wanted a lot of things, Dean." The water running in the sink nearly drowned out the rest. "So did I."

When Dean stopped the shower and pulled back the curtain, his father was gone.

* * *

Sammy looked up at him over a fan of Slim-Jims and granola bars. "So what was it like?"

Yeah, Icee spit-take. Great. "Shit! Gimme some napkins." He took a handful of them and mopped at his t-shirt. "This blue stuff better come out."

"Some girl had sex with _you_?"

"Chicks dig the cool, Sammy." He heard a snort and looked up to see John struggling to hide a smile while pretending to buy what passed for lunch in the Winchester lifestyle. It was going to be Spaghetti-O's again, which wasn't great, but was something they could eat cold if they had to.

"Dean." It wasn't a whine, but it was something that told him that younger brother needed to hear from older brother, and that with father listening it had better be good.

"It was nice, Sammy. Like I said. She was pretty." He curved his hands in front of his chest, then down again near his hips. "Very pretty."

"No, that's not what I meant. What was it _like_?"

John raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders when Dean looked to him for help figuring out what genius-Sammy wanted to know this time. He waved a box of condoms in the air then snatched Sammy's snacks before heading to the register. "You're on your own, kid."

"It was nice feeling close to somebody," he said, and watched his father's shoulders twitch as he walked away. "But it wasn't family."

"Yeah." Sammy nodded like he was taking that in and processing it, just like he did with everything, then a smile spread across his face. "So she had big boobs?"

Dean Winchester did not do shame, which is a good goddamn thing because Dean Winchester just snorted blue Icee out his nose and everyone, including his father, little brother, and the cute girl behind the counter, was laughing at him.


End file.
